Savage Triumph
by SocialDegenerate
Summary: Or: How Agent Stiles Stilinski saves Phil Coulson's life, bags himself a werewolf boyfriend, and joins the Avengers. (Prompt fill)


Alarms were blaring, people were yelling incoherent orders, and Agent Stiles Stilinski was tearing through the SHIELD Helicarrier, having been urgently summoned to the room that held one barely-alive Agent Coulson.

Shoving past the onlookers, he slid into the room, only stumbling _slightly_ as he tried to avoid the other doctors gathered around the bed. An older man grabbed his arm, pulling him off to the side and gesturing to the motionless body on the bed.

"Stilinski, he's only just hanging on, and there's nothing we can do. The trauma to his organs is too severe, and we can only keep him going for another couple of minutes before no amount of medical science can save him. Is there _anything_ you can do?"

And _that_ was why Stiles was working for SHIELD in the first place. After earth's first real wide-scale introduction to magic, coming in the form of two Norse alien-god-wizard things, SHIELD had quickly picked up the best of the best of human practitioners, with Stiles recruited due to his proficiency in healing and defence.

"Gimme a moment, let me see him." The doctor darted around, clearing a space for Stiles to quickly look over the pale figure, machines and needles attached to what seemed like every spare bit of skin. The wound was grotesque: there was practically a perfect hole all the way through Coulson's body, and Stiles really didn't think that a living person should have their vital organs on display like that.

Blood was _everywhere_, and thank god Stiles had gotten over his whole 'fainting at the sight of blood' thing.

A heart monitor nearby was showing distressingly low readings, so Stiles cleared his mind, focusing only on the power inside him and the body in front of him. He could only think of one possible way to save Coulson, and it was risky at best.

He'd only ever tried it once before, and that was with Scott's help. Deaton had taught it to him when he was sixteen, and the rogue Alpha werewolf that had bitten his best friend had almost clawed out the throat of another high school student. Deaton had stressed it as a last resort only, because it took a lot out of not only the magic user, but also the werewolf whose healing power was being channelled out of them and into the victim.

And as far as Stiles could tell, there was only one werewolf currently on board the Helicarrier.

"Get me Hale!" Stiles snapped at the closest person, gesturing wildly when the woman just stared back at him. "Hale! Derek Hale! Get him here right now, we don't have time to waste!"

It was reassuring to realise that Hale had apparently been hanging around in hearing distance, because tall, dark and gorgeous was almost immediately running into the room, scattering doctors around as he slammed to a stop in front of Stiles.

"Why..."

"No time!" Stiles waved away the werewolf's question. "Everybody get the fuck out except Hale."

Thankfully, SHIELD personnel knew when to follow an order, even when it came from a fairly new agent who was lower ranked than half of them. It was distracting and dangerous to have too many onlookers around when magic was involved, and Stiles knew that this was a make-or-break moment.

Grabbing Hale's hand and gripping it tight when it seemed like the man was going to pull away, Stiles centred himself, his other hand coming to rest just above Coulson's bloody wound. "Hale, I need you to focus on your healing powers. You're going to feel like you're being drained, and it's okay; there won't be any lasting effects. Just don't fight the feeling, and you can wolf out if you need to, but you have to shut the fuck up and let me focus. Okay?"

Hale grunted, and Stiles knew that he wanted to say something else, but the man just tightened his grip and kept his mouth shut.

"Alright, here we go..."

Fingers digging into Coulson's unresponsive body, Stiles released his mind from its nearly-constant stream of frantic thoughts, everything going quiet like it only did when he was trying something seriously taxing.

He could hear Hale breathing deeply beside him, and he drew on the feeling of the man's hand in his own. As he closed his eyes, Stiles visualised the white threads that Deaton had instructed him to use as a symbol of healing, seeing them pour from Hale's body and into his own. The power hit him like an electric shock, his body thrumming with an inhuman energy that he'd only experienced once before.

It felt a lot more unfamiliar than Scott's had, but Stiles supposed that was the difference between using his best friend and using someone he'd never even spoken to before. He could only hope that the fact Hale was practically a stranger wasn't going to have any effect on the amount of power he was able to draw out.

When he finally felt like he was getting a decent stream going, he pulled all his focus onto the hand touching Coulson, and let out a deep breath as he felt all that energy filter right through him and out of his fingertips. He had to be careful to let it go slowly: too much too quick and Coulson's body would die from shock. On the other hand, though, if he went too slowly, Coulson would die before the healing could bring him back to a serviceable state.

For a few tense moments, Stiles thought that he'd messed up: he opened his eyes to see no visible changes to Coulson's body even as the werewolf healing powers flooded into him, and time was quickly running out. He was gripping Hale's hand so tightly that he wasn't sure if his fingers would ever be able to let go, and he was tiring too quickly; he didn't have a lot left in him.

Putting everything he had into one last push, Stiles drew on anything and everything he could, feeling Hale sway slightly next to him but ignoring it in favour of focusing on nothing else but his patient.

Then, suddenly, the heart monitor went crazy and there was a flurry of movement as Coulson's body healed like no human's ever should, organs and arteries beginning to move before they were covered in a layer of slowly-regenerating muscle and sinew.

Sighing in relief, Stiles let the last bits of energy leave his fingers, his hand falling away from Coulson. He didn't even realise that he still had a death grip on Hale, but he drowsily turned to the werewolf, giving him a wonky smile.

"Hi, by the way. Agent Stiles Stilinski, nice to meet you."

And then everything went dark.

* * *

When Stiles returned to consciousness, he was aware of three things: his head was killing him, his limbs felt like they'd never be able to move again, and there were arms wrapped solidly around his midsection.

With a groan, he opened his eyes, and he felt more than heard the rumbling growl vibrating through the body behind him. He slowly turned his head, careful not to exacerbate his migraine, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a wolfed-out Agent Hale, eyes a chilling blue and sharp fangs awfully close to Stiles' neck.

Well, that explained the arms and the growling, at least.

"Alright, Furball, how about you get those teeth a little further away from the fragile human." There was no verbal response from the werewolf, but those striking eyes moved to stare directly into Stiles' own, and Hale didn't seem like he was going to try and bite.

"He's been like that since I woke up."

Stiles turned towards the voice, gaze falling onto Coulson. The man was sitting up in a hospital bed, thankfully one that wasn't coated in his own blood, a plain folder sitting in his lap.

"Holy shit, I did it," Stiles mumbled in shock, relaxing back into the man holding him without even realising it. Derek let out a content-sounding growl, his arms tightening around Stiles before loosening slightly.

"You did indeed, Agent Stilinski, and I am _unspeakably_ happy about that. However, you were passed out for almost twelve hours, and not only has Agent Hale not let you go once, but he refuses to let anyone near you." Coulson raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging on his lips that Stiles felt wasn't entirely appropriate.

"Dammit," Stiles sighed, glancing around from where he and Hale were sitting on the ground, propped up against a wall. "Really should've seen this one coming."

"Admittedly, my intel on werewolves is somewhat...limited. From what I can gather, though, he seems to have reached a minor feral state?" Coulson gestured to the folder in his lap, which Stiles assumed pertained to this exact situation.

"Yep. What I did for you is usually only done by pack emissaries, so they already have a close association with the werewolf they use. I'm not totally sure, but I think drawing from Agent Hale has created an intimate connection between us- temporary, thank god- that came from nothing. So he's just a little bit confused, but it should wear off pretty soon."

Nothing like this had happened when Stiles had done this with Scott, but he and Scott were already lifelong best friends. Scott had stuck a bit close for an hour or two afterwards, but he hadn't gotten crazy possessive or anything; Stiles guessed that Derek's system had overloaded itself from the amount of energy he'd poured into Stiles, and now he was struggling with the new found emotions that came from connecting two people so completely.

Deaton hadn't exactly warned him about this, but Stiles figured that he could just wait it out. He'd been in worse situations, after all.

"So anyway, how are you feeling, Agent Coulson?"

"Oddly enough, better than ever," Coulson replied as he stretched out his limbs, rolling his shoulders back. "I suppose that's what happens when a human is flooded with magical healing power."

"I guess so." Deciding to make the most of this situation, Stiles got himself as comfortable as he could in Hale's hold, wincing as the stiffness in his limbs made itself known. He might not have spent any time with Hale before this whole mess, but he'd sure as hell realised that the man was _way_ gorgeous. Well-built, nicely stubbled, endowed with the features of a male model...if Stiles hadn't been utterly exhausted, he probably would've popped an awkward boner already.

Hale, much like Scott, ran hotter than a normal human, and Stiles was perfectly happy to let himself revel in the warmth against his back, Hale's gentle breathing lulling him back to sleep. He wasn't sure how long he was out this time, but he was abruptly jerked back to consciousness when his living pillow suddenly moved, awkwardly dislodging him from his comfortable spot.

"What the hell?" Hale growled in a husky voice, which Stiles had to admit sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Oh, so you're coherent again!" Slowly dislodging himself from where he was sprawled across Hale's lap, Stiles pushed himself into a proper sitting position, turning to face the confused werewolf.

"_What did you do?"_ Hale might have shifted back to his human face, but the power of his glare was possibly scarier than his shifted features. Stiles held up both hands, trying to keep himself from getting torn apart by an angry were.

"No biggie, dude. Do you remember me transferring some of your healing powers into Agent Coulson?"

Hale slowly nodded, and Stiles took that as a sign to continue. "Well, I'm not really sure what happened, because I passed out afterwards, but you kinda went a little feral. I kinda underestimated the effect that a joining like that would have on you, so you sorta freaked out and wouldn't let anyone near us. I'm so fucking sorry for...well, everything, I guess."

Stiles could have sworn that he saw the slightest blush flare up on Hale's neck and ears, and wasn't that just the single most adorable thing he'd ever seen?

Hale glanced around the room, pausing only a little on Coulson, and his expression hardened once he zeroed back in on Stiles. "How did you _know_?"

"Don't worry, Wolfman, your secret's safe. Everyone still thinks you're a mutant of some sort, so no pesky hunters'll be coming after you."

"He's correct, Agent Hale. Only those who absolutely have to know are aware of your...heritage." Derek didn't spare so much as a glance in Coulson's direction, still choosing to glare at Stiles.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"Ugh, fine," Stiles muttered, "Make a guy ruin all of his mysteries. Long story short, after my best friend was bitten by a rogue Alpha, I was taken in for training under Doctor Deaton and Scott was taken into your mother's pack. I wasn't sure you belonged to _those_ Hales at first, considering that all this happened after your quiet escape from Beacon Hills, but _damn_ do you look like Laura. Didn't take much to put it together after I realised you kept reacting to things you shouldn't have been able to hear."

Derek's expression shifted to shock, although it was mostly concentrated around the area of his eyebrows, and Stiles smirked. "Oh yeah, I have spent _way_ more time with your family than any one person should have to. To be honest, it was almost a relief to join SHIELD and get away from that particular brand of crazy. I think I was one more bad pick-up line away from shoving wolfsbane down Peter's throat."

Hale growled, and Stiles shifted back a little bit, just to be safe. "Kidding dude, relax. They're not that bad. Your mom's one scary lady though."

Something like pride flashed in Hale's eyes, and Stiles smiled. "Anyway, anything else you wanna ask?"

Derek looked like he was trying to remember something, and Stiles sat as still as he could while he waited, unwilling to break whatever tentative truce they'd built up.

"You said your name was Stilinski."

"Yep."

"Sheriff's son?"

"Yep!"

"I remember you," Derek began, eyebrows furrowing. "You were an annoying little shit when you were young."

Laughing, Stiles nodded. "And if you ask pretty much anyone, they'll tell you that now I'm an annoying bigger shit."

Hale rolled his eyes, but there was a little bit of a smile on his lips, and Stiles was pretty sure that he was quickly developing a crush on the so-out-of-his-league Agent Derek Hale.

Derek's head snapped towards the doorway, and Stiles strained his ears, trying to hear what Hale's werewolf hearing could. It took a while before he could, but soon unintelligible shouting became apparent, quickly followed by heavy footsteps. A strong hand grabbed the back of Stiles' shirt, and he let himself be dragged back against the wall, Derek putting himself between the human and the door.

Stiles figured it was a lingering side-effect of the temporary power bond they'd made.

The sound of a slight scuffle filtered through the closed door of the room, and Coulson sighed as it suddenly burst open, the handle slamming into the wall and probably leaving a hole.

It took Stiles a moment to figure out who exactly the group of people invading the room were; he was glad that no one was paying attention to him though, because the noise he made when it clicked was frankly mortifying.

_Superheroes, _there were _superheroes_ right there in front of him, and they were in civilian clothes, and they looked like regular _people _(though more than a little beaten up)and holy shit he couldn't handle this. He'd briefly met Agents Romanova and Barton during his time at SHIELD, of course, but this was totally different.

He thought he might have been about to hyperventilate from being in such close quarters with Iron Man, Captain America and the Hulk; Thor was nowhere to be seen, but as Stiles was now assuming that the battle with Loki had finished sometime while he was asleep, he was probably off somewhere dealing with his brother.

Forcing himself to calm down, Stiles rested back against the wall, trying to keep himself from saying something stupid. He didn't think he could really be blamed if he did, though.

He'd only just managed to get himself under some semblance of control when everyone in the room suddenly turned to look at him, and he shied away a little into Hale's side as he worried that some of his internal monologue had become external. It was a thing that happened when he was stressed.

But that was when he realised that he could hear Derek growling, the low sound sending vibrations through Stiles from where he was pressed up against the werewolf.

"Calm down, Wolfy," Stiles murmured, knowing that Derek could easily hear him; the growling got quieter, but he could still feel the odd tremor running through Hale's body. Patting the bigger man between the shoulder blades, Stiles slowly moved a little further away from him.

"There ya go, dude. Everything's fine, we're all fine."

Looking up, Stiles saw that everyone in the room was still looking at them; clearing his throat to get past his utterly starstruck shock, he grinned widely if not a little tiredly.

"Uh...hi, everyone."

And that was how Agent Stiles Stilinski met the Avengers.

* * *

As was only expected, shit utterly went down in Fury's office once the Avengers had seen for themselves that Coulson was _alive _and _real_, and that Fury had openly lied to them.

Clint had nearly screamed himself hoarse, pacing back and forth and gesturing wildly as he let out an expletive-laden rant that barely made any sense. Tony had filled in any silences, snarking about how he didn't want to be associated with a filthy pack of liars.

Fury's calm rebuttal that an agency who employed spies, such as SHIELD, was by _definition_ a pack of liars, hadn't done much to stop him.

Bruce had declined to attend the meeting, which was probably a good thing for everyone involved (and the structural integrity of the Helicarrier). He'd taken off to find a quiet corner to meditate in, having started looking the slightest bit green under the lights of Coulson's hospital room.

Natasha was simply sitting silently, fingers lightly tapping on her crossed legs. Although she wasn't willing to do anything openly threatening towards her boss, her entire demeanour easily showed her utter displeasure about the situation. Fury might have been her boss, but Coulson had worked much closer with her than the other man ever had, and she was certainly never going to forget the way she felt when she'd been told about Coulson's 'death'.

Although she'd seen a lot of people die throughout her life, a lot of them by her own hands, Natasha had definitely felt the impact of Fury's lie. Objectively, she could recognise it as the turning point in their team's dynamic, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

And Steve...Steve was standing like the perfectly disciplined soldier he could be when he wanted to, but his eyes looked like a kicked puppy's and it almost hurt Tony to look at him.

So he didn't.

When Clint's voice finally cracked and died, Tony had calmed down enough to be thinking slightly more rationally (although he _was_ still raging). He figured that there was no way Fury was going to tell him exactly what had happened with Coulson, so he decided to take a different approach.

"Who were Beastman and the kid?"

Fury just raised an unimpressed eyebrow, making Tony sigh in exasperation. He was tired, he needed a drink, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

"The agents in Coulson's room. The big one definitely wasn't human, and the kid looked like a pretty shitty guard, so there's something else going on there." Tony had his suspicions, but with the kind of operation SHIELD was running, nothing was ever one hundred percent certain.

"I think you're forgetting who answers to whom here, Stark." Fury leaned back in his chair, his one-eyed stare intensely focused on the billionaire. Tony was about to snap back about the fact that he didn't work for SHIELD and so didn't answer to Fury in any capacity, but he was cut off when a low, steady voice spoke out for the first time.

"I can't speak for the entire team, and I wouldn't want to, but I will walk away if you don't start telling us the truth. I can't serve under a superior who has no trust in his men."

Steve had drawn himself up to his full height, his strong chest making him look like the immovable object he really was. Even without the shield in his hands, he looked like nothing on earth could hurt him now.

"You're a bunch of fucking idiots if you think it's that easy to leave SHIELD. I'll tell you this much, though: Hale is a mutant, and Stilinski's good with magic. Now get the hell out of my office."

Steve was the first one to move, spinning stiffly on his heel and walking through the door with his head held high. Natasha was graceful as she left without once looking at Fury, and the other two filtered out behind her, both muttering angrily under their breath.

Each one of them knew that they weren't willing to leave the Avengers, with the kind of things they'd done and seen, but it was a close call.

It was going to take a while before they could believe anything Fury said to them, but at least they still had Coulson.

* * *

After Loki's attack on Earth, things went from bad to absolutely crazy.

Between all the shit going down with the Mandarin, the Dark Elves _and_ the Winter Soldier, on top of all the regular criminal fuckery that SHIELD had to deal with, Stiles hadn't managed to track down Agent Hale for a long-needed chat.

He really needed to touch base with the werewolf, to make sure that there were no lingering effects from the highly intimate magic Stiles had kinda forced him into. He actually felt terrible about that, but it wasn't like he'd _known_ what it was like to pull a stunt like that using someone who wasn't his best friend.

Next time he was in Beacon Hills, he was going to have _words_ with a certain vet-slash-druid.

In any case, he definitely wasn't currently taking advantage of it being a surprisingly quiet day at the Triskelion to find Hale just because the man wouldn't leave his thoughts alone. He had actual reasons for wanting to track him down, reasons that related to SHIELD stuff and so were totally legit.

Hale's boner-inducing hotness was just an added bonus.

It actually took him a good few hours to track the illusive werewolf down, even when he took to just following the trail of lust-struck agents that Derek tended to leave in his wake. He would've been surprised by how easy that was, but he'd spent enough time with the other Hales to see the emotional destruction they could wreak on the unsuspecting public. Peter was easily the worst, but only because he actively encouraged the attention. Sure, he never actually _acted_ on it, but he was one hell of a flirt.

Stiles eventually managed to track Agent Hale to a gym on a basement level of the building, one that was specifically designed for people who were too strong for regular gym equipment. He'd been tipped off by the high concentration of junior agents who just _happened_ to be wandering around near the gym windows.

When he got close enough to see what they were looking at, he couldn't find it in himself to blame a single one of them. Over to one side of the room, Hale was hanging from a high bar, performing chin-up after chin-up at a pace no human would have been able to maintain.

Plus, the dude was shirtless.

Stiles had to make sure he was still breathing normally, because he was a little worried that he was going to hyperventilate at the sight of Derek Hale's bare back, sweaty skin sliding over rippling muscles as he pulled himself up. And he had a _tattoo_, a black swirl across his spine that Stiles recognised as the Hale family triskelion (and wasn't _that_ amusing, considering where Hale worked), which he'd also seen tattooed on the inside of Laura's wrist.

Shit, he was going to get so _mortified_ next time he saw Laura's tattoo and popped a boner from just the memory of this very moment.

Shaking himself slightly, Stiles made his way through the not-so-subtle agents who were milling around, pushing the gym door open and letting it slam closed behind him. Hale didn't react at all, his pace staying steady as he exercised, and Stiles took a moment to just admire the view without an annoying pane of glass between them.

"You've gathered a pretty big crowd of admirers out there, dude."

"And yet you're the only one who's stupid enough to actually come in here."

There was nothing Stiles could do but laugh. "Okay, yeah, I see where Cora gets it from now. The frowning, the grumbling, it all makes sense."

"Why are you here, Stilinski."

Oh, hey, that was a plus- Derek remembered his _name_, which was more than could be said for most of the people Stiles had crushed on over the years. Not that Stiles was crushing on-...

Okay, yeah, he had definitely taken a liking to Agent Hale.

Whatever.

"I just wanted to...Look, can you come down from there for a moment? It's kinda distracting." Stiles' gaze was darting all over the gym, purposely looking everywhere _except_ the borderline pornographic show going on in front of him. Past experiences had taught him that he couldn't trust his mouth in the vicinity of beautiful people, and he didn't want to scare the werewolf away by saying anything profoundly stupid.

With a put-upon sigh, Derek dropped to the ground, cracking his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders. Stiles nearly choked on his tongue, cursing himself for thinking it'd be safe to look back at the werewolf. He tapped his foot while Hale wiped himself down, only risking another look at the man when he was sure there was no more shirtlessness to be seen.

Unfortunately, the addition of a shirt didn't do much to dim the hotness that was apparently some sort of Hale curse.

"Stilinski."

And he'd been staring. Of _course_ he'd been staring. Coughing slightly, Stiles tried his best to fight back the blush he _knew_ was rising all over his face. "Okay. Yes. Things I wanted to talk about. Stuff."

"_Stiles_."

"Goddammit, gimme a second. Alright, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the whole magic thing. I know it can be pretty hard on people who aren't used to it."

"I'm fine." Turning away, Derek started to collect his stuff, and Stiles knew he couldn't let the man get away from him again. Quickly closing the distance between them, he grabbed the older man's shoulder, feeling Hale stiffen under his hand.

It was almost violent how abruptly Derek moved to get Stiles' hand off him, and when he turned around again his eyes were flashing vibrantly blue, freezing Stiles in place. Hale didn't shift any more than his eyes, but that was only a slight relief with the way he was growling deep in his chest.

Lifting both his hands in surrender, Stiles fought every instinct he had to run away as quickly as possible: Talia had drilled it into him that he should never, _ever_ antagonise a werewolf into chasing him, because even with his magic, there was very little chance of him ever coming out of it in one piece.

"Derek," Stiles murmured quietly, trying to keep his voice as steady and calming as he could, "You're not fine. I can help you, though."

"_Stay away from me_."

Eyes still blazing blue, Derek threw his gym bag over his shoulder and stalked past Stiles to the door, making sure to give him a wide berth so there was no chance of Stiles touching him again.

Blinking dumbly at the place where Derek had previously been, Stiles found himself rubbing his chest to try and soothe the burning ache he could feel there; it didn't help. He was glad that his work was completely finished for the day, because there was no chance of him staying at the Triskelion, not after what had just happened.

* * *

"Scott, I fucked up."

Lying on the couch in his small apartment, TV playing quietly in the background, Stiles had finally managed to contain his swirl of broken thoughts enough that he figured he was okay to hold a conversation. His best friend, obviously figuring out that something was wrong, just made a simple 'go on' sound in reply.

"You remember how we had to save Alex that time at Deaton's? After he nearly got his throat torn out?"

"And then I kept wanting to hug you because magic sucks?"

"_Blasphemy_," Stiles hissed, but it carried none of the humour it usually did. He sighed, so grateful that Scott seemed willing to sit silently and let Stiles take all the time he needed.

"Well, I used that same ritual again...and I think I might've fucked him up."

"Him?"

"Derek Hale."

Scott inhaled sharply, and Stiles could only let his head bang against the arm of his couch. He was an idiot. An idiot who had saved a life, sure; but who knew what kind of effect he'd had on Hale? It went far beyond him having a simple crush on the guy, because they were technically _pack_, of sorts.

You didn't hurt your fellow pack members, even if it was someone you'd met all of twice.

"I had to do it, Scott. I had no choice but to use him to save Co-...uh, a senior agent. And I tried to talk to Derek today, but he freaked out and nearly shifted right there in the gym. It was weird, bro, like _really_ weird."

"First of all, Stiles, you did the right thing." Stiles could practically hear the pride in Scott's voice, and in any other situation it would have filled him with happiness; but he couldn't get the image of Derek's shifted eyes out of his head, and the residual fear and worry was overpowering anything else he could possibly feel.

"I didn't even tell him what I was going to do. I just...did it. I _used_ him, Scott, and I feel like the worst fucking person in the universe. He freaked out afterwards, wouldn't let anyone near me for _hours_...I think I did something to him. Something bad."

"_Stiles_. Listen to me. You are _not_ a bad person, and it sounds like you didn't have any other choice. But I think you should talk to Talia, because she might know how to help."

"Scott, no, I can't tell her that I broke her son. She's terrifying, she'll claw out my heart for hurting one of her kids." Stiles' free hand was gripping a couch cushion, knuckles white at the thought of having to tell the Hale Alpha about what had happened.

Talia Hale was kind and fair and intelligent and beautiful and a wonderful mother-slash-mother figure...as long as you were on her good side.

"She'll understand, she _loves_ you. But I think you really need to talk to her, because I can't help you with this. I don't think anyone else except Deaton has the kind of knowledge she does, and he definitely hasn't gotten any less cryptic since you left. Look, do you need me to come up and stay with you for a while?"

Stiles knew that Scott's offer was genuine, that he'd drop everything and be by Stiles' side as soon as he could with just a word. But he couldn't do that to Scott.

"Bro, look, I appreciate that more than you know, but I can't make you do that. I know you guys hate being away from your pack, and I just need to man the fuck up and call Talia. Thanks, dude. You're the best."

"You need to come visit me soon as you can, yeah? Kira keeps saying that she's pretty much forgotten what you look like, and I'm pretty sure Laura and Cora have been planning something to do with you."

Finally managing to crack a smile, Stiles let himself sink down further into his couch, relaxing ever so slightly. "Already planning to get back sometime in the next couple of months, as long as neither Talia nor Derek actually kill me. I'll text you later, tell you how it goes."

"Not that you need it, but good luck!"

Exchanging goodbyes, Stiles ended the call, letting his arm flop down and his phone fall out of his hand and hit the carpeted floor. He might have been a super badass magic-using agent for the world's biggest, most secret intelligence and security agency, but Talia was, well, _Talia_.

But Scott was right.

_Dammit_.

* * *

Two hours later, Stiles hadn't moved, but his heart was racing uncomfortably fast as he waited for the Hale Alpha to say something, _anything_. After finally gathering enough confidence to call her, he'd begged her not to say anything until he'd finished explaining exactly what had happened, because he didn't think he could handle having to start and stop the story without losing his nerve.

This, though, this _horrible_ silence that seemed like it would never end, was probably worse.

And then Talia laughed.

Forgetting that he was supposed to be nothing but respectful in this kind of situation, Stiles couldn't help but snap, "What's so _funny?_"

Luckily Talia didn't take it as an insult, just kept laughing in a way that was eerily similar to Laura.

"Oh, Stiles. You're a healer and a defender; you could never break someone as stubborn as my son. You can scheme with the best of them, but you're just not capable of the truly malicious intent it takes to purposefully hurt someone like that."

"B-but," Stiles stuttered, utterly dumbfounded, "I used him. I never asked permission, and I barely even told him what was going to happen!"

"And I know you wouldn't have done that if you absolutely didn't have to. I think Derek knows that too."

"He damn near _wolfed out on me _earlier today, just because I touched him. I just...I just don't know what to do. Maybe I didn't leave any lasting effects on him, but I just can't leave things the way they are." Talia, as the Alpha, was a busy woman; but she was also the person who had taken two scared teenagers under her wing, and this wasn't the first time Stiles had ever asked her for advice. However, this was the first time that the topic boiled down to 'I like your son but I think I broke him and now he might be hurt and I just want him to be happy and maybe to date me'.

Not that he'd told Talia about that bit.

"I can't tell you exactly what to do, but I think you need to talk to my son. Really talk to him." Talia sounded like she knew something Stiles didn't, and it was unnerving: the woman was rarely, if ever, wrong and she only ever sounded _that_ confident when she knew she was completely right.

"...Fine. I'll see what I can do. But if he kills me, you have to at least let Scott get a few good hits in on him before you put the pair of them back on their leashes."

"What have I told you about the dog jokes? And you'll be fine, Stiles. Talk to him."

"...I will."

* * *

He didn't.

He'd been full of great intentions and determination, and was even in the process of (once again) tracking Derek through the Triskelion building, when an unholy array of alarms started blaring. Not only that, but his personal pager was vibrating madly in his pocket, letting Stiles know that he was personally being called up for something important.

Spinning on his heel and taking off to the nearest elevator, he waved the active pager in front of a discreet scanner on the control panel, overriding any other floor directions and getting an express ride to the correct floor. The elevator doors opened to reveal Director Fury's personal office, and Stiles felt his heart pound with the possibilities of what they wanted him for.

Director Fury himself was seated behind a large desk, a holographic screen partially obscuring him from Stiles' view. He didn't look up when Stiles walked into the room, but that was to be expected. Instead, a rather healthy-looking Agent Coulson walked into Stiles' line of sight, his neutral expression cracking to show slight signs of stress and frustration.

"Agent Stilinski," Coulson greeted with a slight nod of his head. "I'm sorry that we have to do this, but we don't have any other choice."

Stiles remained quiet, but there was a slight quake to his hands that could have been from anticipation, fear, adrenaline or some bizarre mix of all three. He'd never been personally summoned for anything except healing the man in front of him, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready to have another human life placed solely in his hands.

He didn't let his doubts show on his face, though. SHIELD agents couldn't let their weaknesses be seen and exploited, no matter what the situation was. As it was, Coulson seemed to be searching for some sort of reaction, but seemed pleased enough to continue speaking when there was none from the young agent.

"Amora, otherwise known as The Enchantress, has invaded New York with some kind of Asgardian monsters. The Avengers are trying to subdue the threat and limit civilian casualties and collateral damage, but due to the fact that Loki has been linked to this attack, Thor returned to Asgard to ensure that Loki is still safely incarcerated.

"The Avengers are currently holding on, but they may soon be overpowered by the Enchantress' magic as they cannot effectively defend against it. As I said, we have no option but to send you down there as support, to give the Avengers a fighting chance."

Aware that everyone in the room was now looking at him expectantly, Stiles opened his mouth; only for his voice to crack and go quiet.

He took a deep breath, clearing his throat and drawing himself up to his full height, shoulders back and gaze unflinching despite the rapid pounding of his heart and the sweat he could feel beading on his forehead.

"Yes, Sir."

Coulson gave him a small smile, and even the perpetually terrifying Agent Hill seemed to be looking at Stiles with an expression that seemed a bit like respect.

"Go to the Helicarrier immediately. There, you'll be briefed and outfitted for combat, then deployed into the field. Good luck."

From there, everything was a blur of movement and words as Stiles was whisked through the building and onto the Helicarrier, the frenetic pace not letting him focus for a single second on how absolutely terrified he felt. The Enchantress was nothing like the basic criminals he'd dealt with before, and on top of that, he was going to be fighting directly alongside _the Avengers_.

This wasn't the small-time any more.

Before he knew it, Stiles was sprinting down a partially destroyed street, the communicator in his ear directing him towards the main scene of the battle. Skidding around a corner, he looked up just in time to see Black Widow snap the neck of something that looked like a cross between a giant wolf and a stegosaurus.

There was a sudden flash of green light, and Stiles didn't even have time to think when he saw a pulsing, green ball of energy shooting towards the Widow's back. Throwing his hands out with a shout of warning, he felt a tingling warmth shooting through his arms and out from his fingertips, his own energy enveloping and dissipating the enemy spell.

"Stilinski is on the field," Stiles heard Natasha say through the comm as she executed a perfect flip off the dead creature, not even pausing to look at him as she took off after another creature further down the block.

"Kid, the Enchantress is one block north and two blocks east from your position." The unmistakable voice of Iron Man rang in Stiles' ear, and the fact that he sounded uncharacteristically serious had Stiles pushing himself harder and faster towards the directed location. Any signs of nervousness were gone as his focus became razor-sharp, the only thing on his mind the fight he had ahead of him.

In the middle of the street, Captain America was busy fending off several different weird monsters with Hawkeye somewhere above, shooting incendiary arrows wherever he could. Stiles glanced up to see Iron Man flying overheard, shooting repulsor blasts at the levitating Enchantress, who was easily shielding herself.

In the distance he could easily make out the huge figure of the Hulk, where he was presumably destroying yet another group of creatures; Stiles could at least say that he was grateful that he didn't have to worry about being stepped on.

"Stilinski, on your left!"

Instinct had Stiles flinging an arm out to release a powerful force, the wind-like energy catching a lizard-looking creature in mid-air and flinging it away from himself. Hawkeye, the owner of the voice that had originally warned him, finished the move off with an exploding arrow, immediately incinerating the creature as it let out an unholy dying shriek.

"_Iron Man!" _

Captain America's yell had Stiles turning and gathering energy as quickly as he could, but he was too late to stop the ball of energy from hitting Iron Man's leg, the suit sparking dangerously as his flight path became erratic. Luckily, Iron Man managed to stay focused enough to let out another repulsor blast from his hand, taking advantage of the Enchantress dropping her shield to attack.

The opening caused by her dodge gave Stiles just enough time to focus his energy properly, letting off one of the only offensive spells he could effectively do and smashing Amora directly in the chest with a pulse of concentrated power. She was momentarily stunned as she hurtled towards the ground, only barely managing to right herself before impact.

The majority of his attack's power had come from the element of surprise, and Stiles knew that it wasn't going to work again, but the diversion had been enough for Iron Man to get out of the firing line, presumably taking the opportunity to kick-start backup energy on the leg of his suit.

Meanwhile, Captain America had smashed his shield into the face of the last conscious monster in the immediate vicinity, turning his attention to where the Enchantress was now levitating several metres off the ground.

The smirk on her face was causing anger to boil up within Stiles, especially when she turned to him and let out a laugh, blonde hair fluttering in the wind.

"Earth is sending _children_ to fight for them now? You have hundreds of years to go until your magic could possibly stand up against mine. You'll suffer for your impertinence."

* * *

Derek shifted uneasily, eyes glued to the Helicarrier screens that were linked to every CCTV camera in the city. Only two of them remained functional around the site of the main battle, but they were more than enough for Derek to see Stiles clearly in the thick of it, frantically sending out magical shields and defensive forces as the Enchantress targeted him over and over.

His body felt too small, like his skin was trapping him, and he was desperate to get out; Derek didn't know how much longer he could spend waiting for orders to deploy. He forced himself to stay still, though, hoping desperately that the Avengers could supplement Stiles' magic enough to keep him safe.

And then Captain America took a clearly unexpected blow to the side, sending him flying into a nearby building and leaving Stiles undefended from the claws of a creature that attacked from behind while he was preoccupied with shielding himself from Amora's blasts.

Derek saw red as Stiles' arm went limp from the claws in his shoulder, and he knew that his eyes would be glowing blue as he sprinted from the surveillance area, only briefly acknowledging the vision of the Black Widow flipping the monster off Stiles and heavily into the ground.

He ignored the shouts of the Agents around him, grabbing a parachute and barely managing to maintain a mostly-human form as he breezed through the launch point, already free-falling through the air before he realised what he was doing. Each and every instinct in him was screaming to protect Stiles, the persistent, annoying agent who smelled like _home _and _pack_ and the _possibilities of the future_.

Derek couldn't stand by and watch him die.

Hitting the ground in a heavy roll and immediately wolfing out, Derek clawed off his parachute and ran on all fours towards the sounds of the battle, smelling so much blood and desperately hoping that Stiles hadn't been injured any more while he hadn't been watching.

There was nothing distracting him as he barrelled towards the Enchantress, launching himself into the air with a feral roar and fully intending to put his claws directly into her heart. Unfortunately, she turned at the last moment and his claws glanced off her deltoid, the exposed skin there defenceless against the shredding he gave it.

If anyone else on the field said something, he didn't hear it; the only thing that mattered was killing the Enchantress so that she could never hurt Stiles again. Turning with a skid, claws digging into the ground to give himself more traction, Derek threw himself at the Enchantress again, not letting the energy blast he took to the flank slow him down as he aimed his claws at her face.

* * *

"He's gone feral!" Stiles yelled into his comm, trying not to let the shock of a wolfed-out Derek suddenly appearing affect his judgements. "Do whatever you can to help him, but _do not_ get in his way unless you want to be hurt."

Holding his undamaged hand to the wound on his shoulder, Stiles stumbled back from the battle radius, trying to force his magic to heal himself as quickly as possible. He was quickly feeling drained, and he was pretty certain that adrenaline was the only thing keeping him going.

He managed to get his arm into a semi-usable state, but there was no way he could take another blow like that; still, he forced himself to go back into the battle, where it seemed like finally, _finally_, the tables had turned.

Amora was bleeding from her arm and cheek, desperately dodging repulsor blasts, arrows and a shield as she tried to keep Derek in her sights, the werewolf snarling and snapping his teeth as he cut into her with his claws, none of her attacks even slowing him down.

Her increasingly sloppy defence became her downfall as Stiles sent one last wave of force towards her, catching her just enough to send her into the path of a repulsor blast. This time, there was no catching herself as she flew into the hard street, only Derek running at full pelt towards her and sinking his claws into her stomach, snarling menacingly as her blood covered his arm.

It wasn't enough to kill her, and Stiles saw Derek rear back for the killing blow.

"Derek, _no!_" Stiles shouted at the top of his lungs, knowing that he couldn't let the werewolf kill her. Electric blue eyes snapped onto his and Derek suddenly began sprinting towards Stiles, straightening back onto two legs and shifting to a mostly-human state before grabbing Stiles around the waist. Stiles let himself be taken away from where the Black Widow had Amora in a complicated submission hold as she put her in magic-dampening cuffs and the others were dealing with the last of the monsters, knowing that trying to stop Derek would be a bad idea.

Besides, even covered in blood and with absolute crazy eyes, Stiles kind of liked being in Derek's arms.

"Are you okay?" Derek growled, though it was more of a human noise than a werewolf one.

"I'm fine," Stiles mumbled, even though the adrenaline was wearing off and he was definitely not able to stand unassisted. "Hey, Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"You should go out with me sometime."

Then, as Derek nodded slowly and smiled ever so briefly, Stiles passed out from exhaustion in his arms.

Again.

* * *

**_Epilogue: Six months later_**

* * *

Stiles grinned as he walked through the door of the Hale house, letting Laura gather him up into her usual too-strong hug, which was quickly followed by Talia giving him a slightly more gentle version. He hadn't had a trip back to Beacon Hills since long before Loki's invasion, and as such he was quickly drawn into conversations about what had been happening in both his hometown and New York.

Werewolves, man. They were so goddamn clingy.

Stiles' own particularly clingy werewolf boyfriend didn't happen to be around, as his own leave times meant that he wasn't expected to be back in Beacon Hills until later that afternoon, a full day after Stiles himself had arrived.

At least that meant that Stiles could spend time with his father and Scott, without immediately worrying about how they were going to break the news of their relationship to their respective families. Scott already knew, of course, but he and Kira had been sworn to secrecy.

That, then, explained how Stiles found himself in the middle of a rather awkward conversation.

"So, Stiles," Laura began with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Cora and I realised that you've never been here at the same time as our dear brother."

"We work together, Laura. Or did you not see the however many news stories about the villains we've taken down with the Avengers?"

"I mean _outside_ of work stuff," Laura grinned, and Stiles had an inkling about where this was going. "Derek doesn't have friends, so you've probably never got to know what he's really like. I think you'd like him."

"I like him already. We wouldn't work together so well otherwise!" A plan was forming in his mind. If Laura thought she and Cora could conspire against he and Derek, then he was going to give back as good as he got.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know about Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf."

"That's not even what they call us," Stiles grumbled good-naturedly. Laura just laughed.

"May as well be."

Even though Stiles was totally an adult, he stuck his tongue out at Laura, only reluctantly apologising when she put him in a headlock that was gentle enough not to hurt, but strong enough that he couldn't even move.

Once he'd been released, Stiles excused himself to the bathroom, pulling out his phone and quickly texting Derek.

_Dude, I think your sisters are trying to set us up_

The response was thankfully quick, Stiles knowing from the time that Derek was probably just waiting around at LAX, and he had to stifle a laugh.

_Idiots._

Grinning madly, Stiles sent off his response before flushing the toilet for appearance's sake, tucking his phone back into his pocket and heading downstairs.

_When you get here, just play along. I have an idea_

* * *

"Derek's here!" Laura proclaimed, more than likely for Stiles' sake than any other reason; the other werewolves would have heard him arrive themselves. Stiles had to be careful to conceal his grin, and he hung back as the Hale family members took their turns greeting him, Derek taking the barrage of hugging and cheek kissing with a surprising amount of tolerance.

Once the way was clear and Stiles had a direct path to Derek, he caught his boyfriend's eyes and then launched himself towards him. Derek thankfully got with the program quickly enough, letting Stiles jump onto him and wrap his legs around his waist, Derek's large hands grabbing his ass and holding him in place as Stiles kissed him deeply, Stiles' hands carding themselves through Derek's soft hair.

Pulling back, Stiles let his forehead rest against Derek's, finally letting himself grin as widely as he could.

"Missed you, babe."

"It's been two days," Derek said with a roll of his eyes, but his tone was playful.

"_Goddammit_," Stiles heard Laura grumble, presumably unhappy about her totally awesome matchmaking plans going to waste.

"Sorry, Laura," Stiles laughed, not feeling repentant in the least. "You can't exactly set me up with someone I've been dating for six months."

Pecking Derek on the lips once more, Stiles slid back to the floor and took Derek's hand in his own, steeling himself for the inevitable barrage of questions they were about to receive.

Yeah, his life was _awesome_.


End file.
